Yesterday my facebook status update was a complaint worded as an impersonal maxim:
"If you can't find the sh*t you need, you have too much sh*t."
In reality, it was a heartfelt cry of frustration. I can't find my iPod.
I've downloaded some yoga audio tapes I want to try, but am sitting here wondering if I am actually sabotaging myself with all this clutter and these half-hearted commitments.
You know, the kind that siphon energy from the real commitments. Or the kind that are too much bother to pursue, but it is nice to tell yourself you are doing it: like reinstating a yoga practice or learning to cook healthy meals.
Yesterday I saw part of a television program about decluttering. It was actually (effectively) an advertisement for the container store.
Have too much sh*t? Buy more sh*t to help sort it.
Help and inspiration on the internet? Buy this book to help you learn how to make do with less.
In our house, it is not a joke when I say we might need to move because there isn't room for another bookshelf.
A few years ago, I went to Kyrgyzstan for a women writers' conference. I packed a weeks worth of clothes. Sight-seeing clothes, meeting clothes, out-to-dinner clothes. And the airline lost my luggage.
I managed the week on the t-shirt and capri pants I was wearing, and the one cotton dress, two pair of underwear and toothbrush I bought at the local market. I had a great time and didn't feel the least bit self-conscious or deprived. You'd think I would've have learned something.
In reality I wear the same single t-shirt and capri pants and dress most days now. Not because I have no other clothes, but because they are the only clothes I can find easily in the landslide of fabric in my basement.
The new kitchen has less cupboard and storage space. I still am not sure what to do with all the kitchen machines, pickle forks, cheese cutters and mystery doodads. But like my clothing issue, I keep eating the same three or four meals. None of them healthy. Because I can't be bothered to sort through the landslide of options.
My exercise routine works for me because it is simple. Put on the wicking clothing so I don't chafe and wriggle into my VFFs so I don't spring a leak, and go.
How do I simplify the rest of my life?
That is not a rhetorical question. But please don't say I have to buy something.